I’m a gear junkie. In fact, I’d say I have a serious gear problem. I own north of 40 fly rods, a dozen reels, and more waders, boots, and rain jackets than I’ll ever use. That’s partly due to my job, but even before I started reviewing gear, I had a gear problem.
My first top-of-the-line rod was a 9′ 5-weight Winston Boron IIIx, which I immediately followed up with an old J.S. Sharpe’s Featherweight Scottie 6′ 4-weight bamboo rod. That’s in addition to the Sage VXP, Redington Classic Trout, and a few other big-box store rods I already had. I added an Abel TR-2 and Hardy Princess not long after I bought the Winston.
Other than the Redington Classic Trout (which is a phenomenal fly rod), most of my gear was considered top-tier at the time. Even though I couldn’t afford it, I still spent the money because I was convinced good gear would make the difference. I didn’t know what “the” difference was, but I thought it would manifest as tighter loops and bigger fish.
It’s Not The Gear
That didn’t happen, of course. What eventually happened, though, is I learned to appreciate the tangible improvements great gear actually offers. Take fly rods, for example. Today’s modern rods are inherently more accurate than what we were fishing with 20 years ago. The blanks have less side-to-side movement, which means your fly line travels in a straighter line, and we know that straight, tight loops are accurate loops.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, cheap gear has improved as well. The $250 rods of today are significantly better than the ones I used when I started fly fishing. The difference in performance between cheap and expensive rods has probably never been smaller than it is now.
To wit: last week, I was on the water with my friend Alex. We were fishing a fairly wide river with heavy nymph rigs, and Alex was using a rod-and-reel combo that retails for $225. I made an offhand comment: “One of these days, we’re gonna have to get you a real rod.”
Alex replied that he just doesn’t care. His rod and reel work for him, and even though he has access to my vast collection of rods, he almost never takes me up on the offer to fish them. The part of our chat that stuck with me the most was when Alex said, “I can tell the difference between your rods and mine, but it just doesn’t matter to me. It’s not enough of a difference for me to want to use them.”
Testing The Theory
With that, Alex walked downstream and left me to think about my gear obsession. I know it’s ridiculous that fly rods go for $1200 these days. I know a fly rod doesn’t need fancy burled wood reel seats or nickel-silver hardware to be a “good” rod. But there’s a level of enjoyment I get from using the best gear available, and it’s hard to explain why. Maybe it’s a pride thing—I’d love to be the person who can actually afford the gear I have—in which case, I need some serious self-reflection. It’s hard to think of something sillier to get prideful about than fly fishing gear, but there’s a decent chance that’s where my love of expensive rods stems from.
So, in an effort to see how right Alex was, I walked back to the truck, put my Winston away, and pulled out the same $225 rod-and-reel combo Alex was using. Sure, the rod didn’t look as nice as the Winston (few do, to be fair), and it was noticeably heavier in-hand. But it cast my nymphs just fine, mended line without too much trouble, and when I hooked into a few fish, it put them in the net the same as my Winston does.
Was the cheap rod as fun to cast as the Winston? Was it as intuitive and sensitive? Not quite. But it got the job done, and that’s a certain blue-collar efficacy you have to respect.
Then again, fly fishing is far from a serious sport, and you should fish the way that brings you the most joy. For me, that’s tossing dry flies to rising trout with one of my vintage Winstons. For Alex, it’s landing a 25-inch rainbow trout on the same rod-and-reel combo I scoffed at.
We see this debate a lot on our Fly Fishing for Beginners page…and I see it all over on other social media.
First, it’s not the price of the gear that makes the difference, it’s how good it is…that the comment about the gap between inexpensive and expensive gear being smaller than ever is 100% correct.
But here’s a thing: It’s easier to learn to fly fish on good equipment, and it’s easier to fish well on good equipment. Note that I didn’t say expensive. My TFO Axiom 2 rods are almost as good as my Orvis Helios 3 and Scott Sector…and I would have a hard time justifying the increase in cost for the marginal improvement in performance…but it’s there.
Bottom line: A beginner can learn faster, and better, on good equipment than they can on poor equipment…and I can cast a good rod better than a poor rod, and I can cast a great rod better than a good one…does it matter?
Yeah, sometimes it does.
On a related topic: Reverse snobbery is just as dumb as regular snobbery…and potentially more damaging to beginners. Getting beginners started with good equipment matters, regardless of the fact that it’s possible to cast fly line with a stick…let’s help them out by guiding them to good equipment at reasonable costs.